And where are you tonight?


 When I can't help but remember

 the morning it took me

 three hours

to drive home.

 It was all on freeways 
and highways
 
and it felt like 'Fear and Loathing';
 
a road-trip 
where I should have had
 
an arsenal of fancy narcotics 
in a brief case,

 a thug of a friend in the front seat
 
and the road roll out in front of me
 
like hot-black red carpet.
 I'm dreaming in neon,

 a fevered Vegas
 
that won't be real by daylight.


 What are you dreaming of tonight?



 I want to be rid of you,

 and I am unhappy and ashamed of my voyeuristic journey

 that took me from my bed to yours
...and back.
 
I won't relinquish what was said-
I meant it then
 
like I won't mean this tomorrow
 and so
 the inconsistencies

 of 
this 
irregular heartbeat
 demand to be tolerated.

 When you first opened my car door 
I was all coy and mawkish,

 but then one night you didn't see me.

 I was unexpected, like 
a tram stop creeping up

 while talking to an interesting person
 so you don't get off.



 I want to be rid of this memory.



 I wish I had a famous 
Hollywood philanthropist

 to finance your departure,

 it would be all explosions and tomfoolery

 as if you were Hunter.


 It's how we both would like this to end.

 Then I'd know you were game and gone.
 We would have properly said

 our goodbyes.

 But it's late,
 
I'm tired

 and this is the last dream I intend to wake from.
 Safe and lame
 in my own bed tonight,

 I will varnish your name
 off my bedside.

 Remove the traces of your face

 with one quick swipe,

 but I'll remember your

 street spirit soundtrack,

 as you fade out, 
again.